


A friend in need

by Hotaru_Tomoe



Series: Bullets [16]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Boris has Valery's back, Friendship, Gen, Shaving, Valoris if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru_Tomoe/pseuds/Hotaru_Tomoe
Summary: Boris returns to Moscow for medical examinations and other business, while Valery remains in Chernobyl, but doesn't get along with his substitutes.
Relationships: Valery Legasov & Boris Shcherbina
Series: Bullets [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372144
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	A friend in need

Pripyat, May 3rd, 1986

Legasov watches Shcherbina neatly fold the clothes inside the suitcase.

"What if new criticalities emerge?"

"I'll be gone three or four days, no more," Shcherbina replies with a reassuring smile.

"We have to work fast, the fire in the reactor is not yet off. What if we need more tools? If there are urgent decisions to make?"

The politician raises his hand to block further complaints: "I have had someone come from Moscow to replace me, you can address your requests to them."

This doesn’t reassure the professor at all. Valery tightens his lips in a severe line and almost seems to throw Boris a tacit accusation with his eyes.

"Listen," Shcherbina continues, "I don’t like the idea of leaving in the middle of the emergency, but they called me to Moscow for a medical checkup and I have to go back. They called you too, actually."

"Yes, but I told them that I won’t go. I can't, I can't get away from here, there are too many things to do, to plan, to manage, and time is not enough," he concludes with a frustrated sigh, disheveling his hair with a hand.

Boris makes a face: they have known each other for a few days, but he has already understood that Legasov's attitude could be seen as subversive, rather than zealous, and the professor doesn’t even realize it. 

It's up to him to protect Valery before he gets in trouble.

He can’t say exactly when he took this strange intellectual under his wings, but the task was added naturally to his mental list of things to do: _ 'approving the request for new dosimeters and protective suits, drawing up the daily report for Moscow, preventing Valery from saying anything suicidal while the KGB is listening.' _

"It would be for your health."

Valery shakes his head, resigned: "Boris, by now the damage has already occurred: we have been exposed to 15,000 roentgen, there is nothing left to do for my health. Or yours," he concludes in a barely audible whisper, as if he’s apologizing for the truth.

"Well, Chernobyl won't have me, not before I fix this disaster," Boris replies with his usual stubbornness.

Valery almost smiles.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," Boris promises.

Valery looks down at his entwined hands and doesn't answer.

When Boris leaves the room, giving him a last nod, he lights a cigarette.

In the hospital, Boris and his collaborators are subjected to a large number of tests and medical examinations, which take more time than expected: the machineries for the CT scan and the other examinations are limited, and the people to be subjected to the checks are a lot.

Shcherbina doesn’t hide his irritation, and keeps working during the long waits, using a doctor's office (who, of course, couldn’t say no to him).

On the afternoon of the second day, a nurse approaches him.

"Deputy Minister Shcherbina, while we await the result of your CT scan, if you want to follow me, I will cut your hair."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, yes: the doctors have decided to cut the hair of all those who have been to Chernobyl."

"No."

"S-sorry?"

"You understood me perfectly, comrade: you won’t touch my hair."

"But... but... the doctors..."

"What is it, is the radiation only in my hair? If I cut it, I won't get sick?"

"No, but..."

"Then my hair stays where it is, along with my dignity."

Boris is discharged from the hospital with a bottle of iodine pills and one of vitamins.

He’s tempted to ask doctors if it is a new miracle cure for leukemias, but he holds his tongue.

Perhaps the closeness with Legasov is influencing him, if those subversive thoughts come to him.

His lips almost bend into a smile, before regaining his usual composure.

Before returning to Pripyat, he has a last meeting with vice Premier Ryzhkov, to take stock of the accident.

The deputy prime minister isn’t alone, there is another man in the room. Boris doesn’t know him, but the absence of a pin on his jacket tells him that he isn’t a member of the party.

"Ah, here you are, Boris Evdokimovich! How are you?” Ryzhkov greets him with a warm pat on the shoulder.

"I look forward to getting back to work."

"Untiring as always. This man is irreplaceable,” he says, addressing his guest. "I don't think you know each other: this is Professor Velikhov of the Kurchatov Institute, and he came to me with suggestions to better address the crisis at the Chernobyl power plant."

"Professor Legasov and the men of General Pikalov are doing their best," Boris notes, immediately on the defensive.

"I don't doubt it," says Velikhov in a oily voice, "but my colleague's choices are extreme, and I'm here to suggest a softer approach," he concludes, handing a report to Boris.

A soft approach is certainly more welcome in the Kremlin than Valery's scraping words and harsh truth; Velikhov would say what the men in that building want to hear, but while he watches carefully the scientist in front of him, Valery’s words come back to Boris: _ "You are dealing with something that has never occurred on this planet before," _ and now Boris knows that Valery is right, and something so huge can’t be fought with a soft and diplomatic approach.

Ryzhkov is about to open his mouth when the phone rings.

"Yes, what is it? Excuse me, how…? I thought it was all solved! No, no, I'll be right there," he hangs up and rolls his eyes, "I'm sorry, comrades. I have to leave for a while to deal with a nuisance, but you can stay here and talk."

But when the vice Premier is gone, what Boris has in mind is not a peaceful dialogue.

"Tell me, Professor Velikhov, in what way comrade Legasov's approach to the incident is exaggerated?"

"The first thing that comes to my mind is the evacuation: it was a hasty decision, and moving so many people at once created a lot of concern in Ukraine, and beyond."

"In Germany they have forbidden children to play outdoors to limit the exposure to the radiation."

Velikhov shrugs: "A move of the Western countries to put us in a bad light in the eyes of the world."

"In Northern Italy they are destroying the production of vegetables while we speak: no country in its right mind would boycott itself only to put another one in a bad light."

Velikhov's self-confidence begins to falter: "Um... but there is also the way chosen to put out the fire: the combination of lead, sand and boron will create problems, it was a very questionable decision from a scientific point of view."

"I’m aware of it."

"Actually, deputy chairman Shcherbina, it's a pretty complex subject and I don't think..."

"I know that uranium continues to melt even though it’s no longer on fire and that the sand and boron blanket may have accelerated this process, but uranium burns at more than 2,000 degrees and water would vaporize even before reach the core."

Velikhov gapes at him: like Bruykhanov and Fomin he believed he had a stupid bureaucrat in front of him, one he could deceive with big words, but he doesn't know that every night, when he and Valery are back in the hotel, the professor explains to Boris something about the nuclear reactors and the decisions he makes regarding the disaster.

"Y-yes, this is true, but..."

"How would you proceed, comrade Velikhov?"

"Well, actually I didn't do an in-depth study on this subject, because Legasov had already decided what to do, it would be useless."

Shcherbina has already understood Velikhov and his motivations, and a glance at the report that the academician wrote strengthens his judgment: the report is a plain, systematic criticism of Valery's work, but there isn’t a single concrete proposal in it.

Velikhov isn’t really interested in what is happening at the nuclear power plant, but only in denigrating his colleague, for some ridiculous internal power feud.

Instead Valery is still there, in the midst of that invisible and lethal hell, and he didn't want to leave, even for the sake of his health.

Boris feels his blood boil with rage.

"Tell me, deputy chairman Shcherbina, what do you think of my report?"

"I say it's amazing."

"Really?" A smile appears on Velikhov's face: the man thinks he’s gained, sure he has won the favor with Shcherbina.

"Yes, it’s amazing that you’ve managed to write thirty pages of criticism of a situation you haven’t seen, sitting comfortably on your sofa at home, without ever having set foot in Chernobyl."

The academician's smile immediately goes out.

"Here..."

"I understand you, you know? I also thought I could handle the emergency from Moscow, but just like Comrade General Secretary suggested when he entrusted me with this task, a recon is always the best way to understand the real situation."

Velikhov suddenly pales.

"Well, do you want to come with me to examine closely what remains of Reactor 4? To survey the territory in search of radioactive graphite? In that case, I could consider your ideas."

Boris's voice remains incredibly calm, considering how furious he is, but his eyes are a whole other story, and Velikhov understands it quickly.

"Deputy chairman Shcherbina, I'm sorry if my words caused a misunderstanding, it was never my intention to interfere with the choices made by your commission."

Boris has never seen such a fast retreat, not even during war time.

"Ah, very well. So this relationship doesn’t exist," Boris concludes, tearing it under the eyes of the scientist, who merely nods weakly.

Valery doesn’t need interference, not from such a careerist.

"I wasn’t joking, Velikhov: whatever contribution you want to give to the liquidation, you will have to come to the headquarters in Pripyat to talk about it."

Boris already knows that it won't happen: Velikhov is a nuclear physicist like Valery, he knows the effects of radiation on the human body, and he will never expose himself to such a danger.

Then he gets up and leaves the room: he has wasted too much time already, and it's time to go back to work.

Pripyat, May 8th, 1986

Boris realizes that something is wrong as soon as he steps down from the jeep: the liquidators seem to move around without precise guidelines, an inspection in the warehouse of stocks reveals that it is almost empty, even if, when he left, it was full, and neither Valery nor Pikalov and his men are around.

He marches towards the command trailer and opens the door, making the men sit around the table jump: they are the ones who replaced him during his absence, but Valery isn’t there.

"Comrade Shcherbina, are you already back?"

"Where are the stocks that were in the warehouse?"

"We have sorted them on other sites: there are enough for now, we will take other when it’s needed."

This is not what Valery had decided: the equipment must be changed often due to the radiation, and he suggested that it must be always available on the site

"And about Pikalov and his men?"

"We moved them to survey the Belarusian villages."

"But we had decided to put the area immediately surrounding the plant in safety first, especially the one where the liquidators' tents will be built: Professor Legasov had recommended that it be a priority. By the way, where is he?"

"He's not well, he's been in the hotel for a couple of days."

"Why? What happened to him?"

"He insisted on taking measurements with the dosimeter inside the building of Reactor 3, the one next to the exploded reactor, even though we told him that it wasn’t part of the plan."

"Of course it is, I remember it very well"

"Actually, we made some changes to Legasov's plan."

"And who gave you the authority to do it?" Boris growls.

The three men exchange an alarmed look, then one of them takes a step forward.

"Here, deputy chairman Shcherbina, we were forced to do so, because it’s impossible to work with him."

"Exactly," the second man presses, "Legasov's demands are absurd, and he never accepts a compromise, or to review his positions! For example, the stocks he wanted is too much, in our opinion: storing so much equipment here gives the impression that the end of the world has arrived."

_ "Why, isn't that so?" _ Boris would like to say, but the man continues to talk: "And it's not just that: even the measurements he took in Reactor 3... I'm sure you understand that they aren’t numbers that can be made public, but Legasov just doesn't want to understand it. If you want my opinion, deputy minister, for the sake of this liquidation, you should make some changes."

"Oh, believe me, comrade, I'm going to do it," Boris growls.

A young soldier is passing by the command trailer, when he hears an explosion of shouts. He freezes in place, terrified, then decides to go and investigate, but another soldier stops him, pulling him away by the arm.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"We need to check what's going on in there, don't you think? Looks like they're killing someone."

"It’s deputy chairman Shcherbina, he has just returned from Moscow, and apparently he doesn’t like what he found. I advise you to stay away from that trailer, if you don't want to suffer his wrath too."

Valery hears a knock on the door of his room, but doesn’t get up: he doesn’t have the strength to talk to people who systematically challenge his decisions without listening to what he has to say.

Enough, they can do whatever they want, they all will die anyway, it's useless.

He closes his eyes and buries himself under the covers, hoping to be left alone, but when a hand leans on his shoulder, he gasps.

"Valery..."

Boris is bent over him and his eyes are full of concern.

Valery's forehead shows traces of a slight radiation tan, probably due to having entered the reactor building 3, but it doesn’t seem serious.

What is serious is the state of the room: the lunch trays are piled on the table, the ashtray overflows with cigarette butts, the clothes are thrown to the ground without any care, and Valery is in bed even if it’s afternoon.

Since coming to Pripyat, Valery has never stopped working, Boris never saw him rest before.

"You're back."

"Of course: I was hold in Moscow more than expected, but I told you I would come back."

Valery shrugs, "I thought you had left all the work in your substitutes' hands. You’re a deputy minister, you have other commitments besides this."

"No," Boris replies resolutely, "I came here to do a job, and I will complete it."

"But I... Boris," Valery sinks his head back on the pillow, "the people you called... I can't work with them, I can't, I’m sorry."

"You won't have to do it, I fired them. If they’ve a hint of common sense, they’re packing up and going back to Moscow right now."

Valery rises and finally Boris sees his whole face.

"Are you growing a beard?"

Valery's cheeks are covered with an unkempt beard.

The professor snorts with annoyance, scratching his chin.

"Not on purpose: my electric razor broke. Another effect of radiation."

"Use a straight razor."

"No, it's not for me," Valery says, continuing to scratch his neck, "I’ve to take off my glasses to shave, and I don't want to cut myself, not here, it's not recommendable."

"Why don't you say that you don't know how to use it?" Boris chuckles, but Valery doesn't join him. He has already teased Valery some other time for his clumsiness, and Valery never took offence. On the contrary, he admitted that Boris is right with a smile, but now he seems completely indifferent to the joke, while he slowly pulls himself up and look for slippers on the floor.

"Valery, how are you?"

The professor shrugs: "I had a severe migraine after entering the reactor building 3, but I’m better now. I think I'll get back to work. "

He gets up just to let himself fall on the chair, lights a cigarette, takes some reports that are on the table and starts reviewing them, but after a few minutes he throws the pen on the table.

"We need more men, and the stocks your substitutes sent back."

"I've already called Pikalov back, and the stocks will be back here by tomorrow."

Valery takes his head in his hands, not at all heartened by his words: "But we'll have to do the inventory again, what a waste of time!"

Boris looks at him: he isn’t the same man he left here five days before, that man was dynamic and resolute, had in his eyes the will to fight that disaster, while now he gave up, and his eyes are hollow.

"I'm sorry for what happened: my substitutes should have followed your directions."

"They were against me, as if an exploded reactor wasn’t enough!" Valery rubs his bristly cheeks, growling with frustration, and Boris can imagine how discouraged and useless he felt, without anyone to listen to him, but this is not Valery.

Valery is the man who slammed his hands on the table and opened the eyes of the men in the Kremlin, he’s the man who isn’t afraid of uncomfortable truths, and who deals with what no one has ever dealt with on this planet before.

The whole operation needs that man.

Boris needs him.

"It will not happen again. Can I help you?"

Valery hands him some papers: "There are these orders to sign."

"I do it immediately."

For a while they work in silence, but Valery continues to scratch his beard with an annoyed sigh.

He can’t go on like this, he will end up defleshing himself.

"Valery, stop it, you’re behaving like a child."

"It itches!" he complains, "I don't know how to deal with it."

"Okay, that's enough."

Boris gets up, under Valery’s surprised gaze, leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with his toiletry bag in hand.

"Brings a chair in the bathroom."

Valery guessed what Boris wants to do, and shakes his head.

"No... really, it's not necessary."

"Mine is not a request."

No, it's not, so Valery takes off his glasses, gets up and drags a chair into the bathroom; Boris has taken off his jacket and tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and is sharpening a straight razor on the strop with quick and precise movements.

"Sit down."

"Boris, I can do it myself."

"Five minutes ago you said you couldn't do it and I can't risk you cut your throat accidentally. I need you." His voice is light, almost teasing, but his eyes are absolutely serious.

_ "You're important here, Valery, you're fundamental, and I'm sorry those men made you feel otherwise." _

Valery smiles slightly, then points to the chair: "So I sit down and let everything to you?"

"Exactly, like at the barber shop."

Boris ties a large towel around his neck, then wets another one with warm water and places it on his face.

"This will soften your skin," he explains, as he wets the brush and then rubs it on the shave soap to make the lather, then removes the towel from Valery's face and starts to whip the lather.

Valery was expecting abrupt and brisk movements, but Boris is taking all the time he needs, gently lifting his beard with each brush stroke. Finally he holds the razor, three fingers behind the blade and the little finger on the tip for a firm grip.

"Now stay perfectly still," he instructs.

It should be scary, the idea of a man using a straight razor on his face, the same man who a couple of weeks ago threatened to throw him off a helicopter, but it’s not. Valery is completely serene while Boris pulls his skin and rests the sharp blade on it, sliding it along his cheek. He’s much more relaxed now than when he fiercely argued with his substitutes.

Boris's eyes follow the blade's movements carefully, his hand stops whenever he encounters a slight resistance and adjusts the razor's angle or direction, he gently moves Valery's head, as if he were handling something infinitely... not fragile, but precious, almost indispensable, something that must not be hurt.

In the few days Boris was away, Valery felt useless, virtually invisible while the other men made decisions without consulting him or doing the exact opposite of what he said. 

But it’s gone, Boris has made it gone, and now he feels better.

Being so close, they look at each other and their breaths mingle, but neither of them shies away or feels uncomfortable. Indeed, for Valery it’s fascinating to imagine Boris devoting himself to the ritual of shaving every morning.

The dimple on Valery's chin proves somewhat insidious, but Boris's light hand shaves it perfectly.

"Pull your head back," he instructs, and finishes shaving his neck in a few strokes, then the wet towel returns to his face, protecting his irritated skin; meanwhile Boris pours a liquid on his hands and rubs them together.

"This will burn a little," he warns, then puts his hands on Valery’s face and rubs it with the aftershave.

Valery complains a bit, but when Boris fans his face with the towel, the burning has already gone. In addition, the aftershave smells really good, it’s the same smell that permeates Boris's clothes.

"So, what do you say?"

Valery stands up and looks at himself in the small mirror above the sink, running a hand over his face.

"I feel myself again."

Behind him, Boris nods decisively: yes, Valery is back, his eyes are bright again, no longer dull. He’s ready to fight.

"Very good," Boris says, as he turns to lay the towel on the edge of the tub, and hides a smile.

Valery is still touching his perfectly shaved face when he a thought occurs to him.

"The next time you order material from Moscow, could you also include an electric razor?"

"No."

"Oh..." Valery is taken aback by that brusque answer, "Okay, I'll ask it myself, sorry if I bothered you."

"It's not that: you said yourself that your razor stopped working because of the radiation, I won't order another one that will meet the same end, it would be a waste."

"But how can I...?"

"I shave every morning, it's not a problem to do it to you every now and then."

Valery is grateful for the redness left by the shaving on his face, because it’s hiding the blush bloomed on it: it's okay with one time thing, but he doesn't want to bother Boris with it.

"It would be a hassle for you," he protests, "I can't ask it."

"You're not asking me," Boris replies with his usual stubbornness, "I’ll do it."

_ "For you, for the life you are sacrificing, for what you are doing, because you deserve it. I can do this and little more, and I will do it." _

Valery answers him with a grateful smile, then raises his chin decisively.

"I'm going back to work."

"We’re going back to work, Valera," Boris corrects, placing a hand on his shoulder.


End file.
